


What a Perfect Accident

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 13:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6471316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy's first choice for what to do on a Friday night isn't hanging out in the parking lot at his sister's prom. But then he sees a girl fighting with her boyfriend who might need some backup, and suddenly things are looking up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What a Perfect Accident

It's not like Bellamy is really excited to be lurking outside at his little sister's prom. He feels vaguely creepy, honestly, but the whole reason he gave Octavia a ride in the first place is that her asshole ex-boyfriend is going to be here, and he wants to be close by in case she needs him. And, really, it's not like there's much he could be doing sitting at home that he can't do sitting in his car. He's already done with school, home for the summer, and all he'd be doing is reading or dicking around online or watching Netflix, so he's doesn't mind being here, playing Hearthstone and listening to iTunes, just in case O needs him. It's still largely better than his own prom night, which involved wearing an uncomfortable suit, trading a flask with Miller, and not even really caring that his platonic date went off to have sex with someone else. The food had been shitty, the music had been worse, and he hadn't even realized he was bi yet, so he didn't even get to hook up with Miller like he really should have.

He's dimly aware of other people coming and going as he waits, kids getting dropped off, sneaking off to make out, whatever. He's not judging. He really doesn't care, so long as his sister is okay, and his phone is silent, so he's not worried.

Then he hears someone calling, "Come on, Clarke! Just--"

"Fuck you!" someone else yells back. It's a guy and girl, and Bellamy perks up, because that's the kind of thing where someone might need backup. "You don't get to just--you don't get to be upset about this, Finn."

He can see them now, coincidentally right in front of his car, like he's watching a show. Which is awkward, because he has no interest in actually _spying_ , just in being aware of what's going on. In case it goes badly.

The guy has floppy brown hair and the kind of tortured look Bellamy associates with boy-band members who are trying really hard to be earnest and soulful but just come off as douchey. The girl is blonde and fierce and Bellamy thinks she's probably carrying mace. But she might still need some backup, if the other guy presses the issue.

"If you'd just let me explain--"

"Is she your girlfriend?"

"It's not that simple."

"It really is," says the girl. "Is she your girlfriend?"

"She was--"

"And did you ever tell her that stopped?" His pause is too long, and when he tries to speak, the girl says, "No. I don't care about anything else. And, frankly, you shouldn't be out here talking to me. Get in there and treat her fucking _right_ , Finn."

"But Clarke, you're--"

"Going to college in a completely different state from you," she says. "You're my prom date, not my soulmate." He opens his mouth again, and she crosses her arms over her chest. "Leave me alone."

"I was your ride. How are you gonna get home?"

"Your concern is touching. I'll be fine."

"It's dark."

"You don't say." She pulls out a phone and waves it. "I can get home, Finn."

"You don't have to leave."

"No, I don't. I don't want to stay, and I don't want to see you anymore. Seriously. Go back inside and leave me the fuck alone."

His jaw works, but apparently he's out of arguments. "I'm sorry," he says. "Please don't feel like you have to leave."

"Bye, Finn."

Once the guy's back inside, the girl drops back against a car, rubbing her face. He can hear her say, "Fuck," even though it's soft, almost under her breath, and it's stupid, but he gets out of the car, holding his hands up in front of him, like that will somehow help.

"Sorry," he says. "I was, uh--jesus, there's no way this isn't weird, right? I swear I'm not a creepy guy lurking in a high-school parking lot."

"That sounds like what a creepy guy lurking in a high-school parking lot would say," she says, but she looks a little amused.

"Yeah, that's true. I'm, uh--do you know Octavia Blake?"

"Not very well."

"Okay, well, I'm her brother? Bellamy. She was worried about her ex-boyfriend being a dick, so I said I'd stick around in case she needed to get out?"

"Octavia's brother?"

"I've got pictures of us on my phone, if that makes you feel better."

"Makes me feel better about what, exactly?" she asks. Her smiles is perking up as they talk.

"I don't know exactly what happened there, but--did you want a ride somewhere?"

"What about Octavia?"

"How far am I taking you?"

"Farther than the parking lot. I assume you're here so that if she needs you--"

"I think I can spare a couple minutes. If you want. That sounded pretty rough."

Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. "I want the picture. Of you and Octavia."

"Yeah, good call." He fishes his phone out of his pocket; his background is the two of them from when she came to visit him last month, and he shows her that, and then pulls up his text message history, which has an extensive conversation with Octavia about how weird the guy sitting next to him on the bus home from school smelled. 

She's smiling when she returns the phone. "Okay, yeah, you know Octavia."

"All her life, yeah. So, if you need a ride, I can do that."

"You know, honestly, that would be great."

"Sure, no problem." He rubs the back of his neck. "I didn't get your name in that, uh, conversation?"

"Clarke."

"Nice to meet you, Clarke. Where are we going?"

"Could we just kind of--drive around for a little while?" she asks, worrying her lip. "I know that's weird, but--I don't really want to go home yet? My mom's going to be an asshole."

"Your mom's going to be an asshole about your--whatever happened?" He pulls the door open for her, and she settles in carefully, rearranging her dress so she's not sitting on it. She's--cute, honestly. Not his usual type, but in general he's always into girls who get pissed and want to fight people, and she certainly seems to qualify. "That seems kind of extreme."

"She's going to be--I don't know. Coming home from prom early because my date was a dick just isn't something I want to deal with, you know? She never liked him, and it's not like I was in love with him or anything, but he was cute and we had fun, so--"

"So we'll drive around, yeah. Then if O needs me, I'm be close by." He gets the car started, waits until they're moving to say, "So, do you want to talk about it?"

"Not yet. Tell me about yourself."

"Just like that?"

"I need a distraction. And I'm curious. How do you end up having nothing better to do on a Friday night except hang out at your sister's prom?"

"I could have done other things," he says. "But--I don't know." He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. "I'm at college, back for the summer."

"I kind of figured. Where do you go? What year?"

"UC Berkeley. Junior. Or, junior next year."

"Oh, wow. That's where I'm going too."

"Yeah? Cool. I like it."

"Yeah, I'm excited." She slouches a little in her seat. "I just moved here at the start of the school year. My mom got a new job, and the timing sucked. Not--there's nothing _wrong_ with being here. But changing schools at the beginning of senior year, I just sort of--I didn't really bother trying to make friends. And Finn--that guy--decided he wanted to date me anyway. And I finally agreed to go out with him and--" She blows out a breath. "He was fine? Like I said, cute and charming and all. I didn't think we were gonna be together forever, or even for that long, but--it was fun and I liked him."

"And he has--another girlfriend? Was that what I was getting from creepily eavesdropping on you guys?"

She laughs. "I was wondering how much you heard."

"He looked like he might try to force the issue. You looked like you had it covered, but--just in case you didn't, I figured I should keep an eye out."

"Hanging out at a high-school prom, waiting to rescue girls from shitty dates," Clarke says, shaking her head. "Totally not creepy at all."

"Not at all."

"Thanks, though," she says. "For offering a ride. And for not interfering."

"Like I said, it seemed like you had it covered." He wets his lips. "So, the other girlfriend?"

"She's older, so she graduated last year. She's back from college, and--" She huffs. "If it had been, like, she was surprising him at prom? That would be one thing. She just got back, he didn't know, whatever. But he _knew_ she was here. They've been talking. They've been _together_. He just told her she didn't have to come to prom because it would be stupid kid stuff."

"But really because he was already going with you."

"Yeah."

"Jesus. You should have punched him."

"Violence isn't the answer," she says, but there's a smile playing around her lips. "And he wasn't--he's not worth it. He's a dick. He's not worth getting upset over."

"You can still be upset."

"I don't want to be."

"He ruined your prom."

She snorts. "Prom sucked."

"It really did."

"What happened at yours?"

"Nothing. Which I mean literally. It was totally boring. I spent the whole time drinking with my hot, gay best friend, but I hadn't figured out I was into guys yet, so I couldn't even take advantage of it."

She laughs. "When did you figure out you were into guys?"

"Freshman year of college." He pauses, feels kind of weird clarifying, like he's trying to tell her something selfish. Like he wants her to know because--she's cute. And he likes her. "I hear it's, uh, more complicated when you're bi? Like--it's really easy to be into girls. Societal programming or something. So I didn't think about it much."

"It's weird the other way too," Clarke offers. "It's hard to tell the difference between, you know. _Girls are pretty_ and _I want to make out with them_."

"But you want to make out with them?"

"Not all of them."

"Well, at least if that asshole ruined you for me, you've got options. Was his girlfriend cute? You guys could have dumped him and hooked up."

"She was really cute. But pretty pissed at me. Or just generally."

"Yeah, I guess she would be. I hope she kicks his ass."

"For an uninvolved bystander, you're pretty violent about this."

"He looked like a douche. No offense."

"He clearly was one, so none taken." She closes her eyes. "Thanks for driving me around."

"I wasn't doing anything else."

"No friends?" she asks, teasing.

"Definitely not." He grins. "My hot, gay best friend is around, but he's hanging out with his boyfriend. I guess I could third wheel, but I probably wouldn't be doing much even if I wasn't looking out for O."

"So you have an exciting summer of doing nothing to look forward to?"

"I do have jobs."

"Yeah? What do you do?"

"Barista by day, waiter by night. Nothing exciting. I don't have that much time to work in the school year, just a few nights a week, so I do it as much as I can over the summer."

"And you're still spending your free night looking out for your sister."

"I have a couple free nights," he says. His phone buzzes in the cupholder, and he glances down at it, feeling a little dread. It's probably Octavia. Part of him is worried that something bad happened, but he's even more worried that she needs him to come, and this little--whatever he's doing will be over. "That's probably her. Can you check the message?" She raises her eyebrows, and he colors. "I don't like texting and driving."

"She says, _Hey Bell, Atom left and I'm getting a ride home with Zoe. You're off the hook, thanks._ And then a bunch of heart emoji." She pauses. "Bell?"

"What? It's a nickname."

"It's nice."

He smiles at his hands on the wheel. "I guess." Octavia's set. He's good for the night. "So, where do you want to go?"

"Huh?"

"I don't need to hang out around the school, so--we could go somewhere else, if you want? If you're still not ready to go home."

"You really don't have to."

"Nope," he agrees. "I really don't. Where to?"

Her own smile is small and somehow private. "Know anywhere high?"

"High?"

"A nice place on a mountain or something. Somewhere with a view."

"Yeah, I know somewhere with a view." He pauses. "It's pretty, uh, private. If you're worried about being alone with me."

"I'm already alone with you. If you wanted to take me somewhere to murder me, you could have already done it."

"Very healthy attitude."

"I made up my mind as soon as I got in the car, Bellamy." She smiles. "Somewhere private is fine. I just--I like looking at cities at night."

"Then, yeah. I know a place."

Clarke gets his iTunes going, sorting through his music until she finds something she approves of. She sings along softly, not particularly tuneful, but _nice_.

After a few songs, he starts singing along too.

There's an overlook Bellamy's always liked, one with a nice view that's pretty quiet. He doesn't dislike the city, but he likes being close enough to get away from it too, to look down on it as something far away.

There's no one else there, so he parks, and they climb onto the hood of the car and stretch out.

"This is probably bad for your dress."

"Ask me how much I care."

He grins. "How much do you care?"

"So fucking much."

"Fair enough. Feeling better?"

"Yeah. Not that I--" She sighs. "Like I said, it's not like--I shouldn't be that upset. It wasn't going to last through summer, and I wouldn't have wanted it to. I didn't like him that much. But I'm supposed to be smarter."

"You're not stupid," he says. 

Her smile is wry. "Based on what?"

"You're going to my college. Obviously everyone who goes to my college is smart." That gets a laugh, and he feels a little more confident. "It's not stupid to assume someone you're dating is just dating you. Especially when--you guys weren't that serious. He probably didn't even have to work hard to keep you from finding out. Not that--" He sighs. "He's the asshole here. Get angry at the person who deserves it."

"Inspirational."

"Shut up."

Her grin is bright in the night. "No, it's--I know you're right. I guess I can't figure out how to feel. I don't know why I'm upset. I guess--he seemed really into me. It sucks knowing he wasn't."

"He might have been. Maybe that's how he justified it or whatever. He liked you so much, it was okay to cheat on his girlfriend. I don't know. I don't get--I have enough trouble wanting to be in a relationship with one person, let alone two."

She laughs again. "That's one way of looking at it, I guess. Why don't you want a relationship?"

"I'm not opposed. I just don't meet a lot of people I want to _date_."

"Ahh," says Clarke. "So, sleeping around."

"That was pretty judgmental," he says, mild.

"I've just never been great at it. I tried it once, with this girl, when I was trying to figure out if I was bi."

"What happened?"

"We dated for three months." He starts laughing, and she elbows him. "She asked if I wanted to get dinner after, I felt bad saying no!"

"I manage to be pretty clear about my expectations."

She's quiet for a minute, and then she says, "So, what are your expectations?"

"For what?"

"Me."

"Oh." He offers a smile. "I'm hoping you're going to feel better when I drop you off." And then, in the interest of full disclosure, he adds, "I'm here all summer. You're cool. I wouldn't mind seeing more of you."

"So, you don't want to make out?"

"Right this minute?"

She ducks her head on her laugh, and she really is beautiful. It's not something he thinks often, that someone is beautiful. It's not a word that comes up, for most people he meets. It's not a go-to word for him. But she _is_. She's just beautiful, and he wants to make her laugh more.

"When else are you going to do it?"

"Like I said, I've got all summer."

"Your expectations aren't getting any clearer here, Bell," she says, but she's smiling. "They're actually getting further away."

He considers. He hasn't had a girlfriend since, well--it's been a while. And then he finds himself saying, "We moved here my junior year of high school."

"Yeah?"

" _Moved_ is kind of a strong word. My mom died. Me and O came to live with our grandmother. And I really didn't--it's probably kind of how you're feeling, actually."

"Not sure how upset to be?"

"Basically. She was never around much, worked all the time. It was mostly just me and Octavia, so--I don't know. You're supposed to be sad when people die, so I thought I should be, but--I also didn't really feel like I should be. I didn't know what was happening. So I got a girlfriend."

Clarke laughs. "It sounds like you were out doing errands and picked one up."

"Honestly? That's kind of how it was. I still feel like an asshole about it. She was great, but I was just--I thought having a girlfriend would make me feel normal, like trying out for sports teams and going to parties. It was--god, I liked her, but it was really fucking unfair."

"This is a lot of emotional insight for a seventeen-year-old guy," she remarks, sounding more impressed than dubious.

"It took me a while to figure it out. Therapy was involved. But now I'm oversharing with random strangers on the hood of my car, so that's definitely growth, right?"

"Hey, I think I'm at least to--" She makes a face. "Non-random stranger."

"Person with the same schedule on the bus, so we kind of nod to each other and never talk."

"Exactly." She's quiet again. "So, that's your only girlfriend? Any boyfriends?"

"Not really. I'm usually not looking for that." He grins. "But you're cool. I have no expectations. I just don't want this to be the only time I see you."

"Well, I'll give you my number," she says. "We can figure something out."

They end up falling asleep on the hood of the car, her head on his shoulder, until her phone playing the Imperial March startles them awake.

"Shit," she says, flashing him a grin. "My mom probably thinks I'm dead."

He has five messages from Octavia. "My sister does too. Shouldn't she be doing cool prom stuff?"

"What, like I am?"

"Are you saying I'm not cool prom stuff?"

"I'm definitely not currently doing you," she says, and picks up her phone before he can come up with a response to that. "Hey, Mom, sorry. Lost track of time. I'm on my way back now. Yeah, no--a friend. You don't know him. Yes, he's driving. Like half an hour probably?"

Bellamy slides off the hood and offers Clarke his hand as she gets down. "I don't know where you live," he mouths, and she pats his chest, absent.

"I'll be home soon. Sorry."

He texts Octavia, _I'm having a life, be proud. Home eventually._

Clarke slides into shotgun next to him. "The dress is fine. My mom's definitely going to think I got laid."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"You haven't disappointed me yet," she says, in a fond tone that makes his chest warm. "Give me your phone."

He passes it over and gets the car started, watches out of the corner of his eye as she puts her number in. She adds a couple emoji afterward, the 100 one and a heart, which makes him smile.

Her own phone chirps, and she adds his number to her contacts.

"So, where do you live?"

She gives him the address, and it's in a much nicer part of town than his house is, but--he's pretty sure she doesn't care about that. It's weird, feeling so sure. She likes him, obviously. She wants to see more of him.

It is just about half an hour back to her place, and they sing along to his iTunes again. It feels like being in a movie somehow, like something cinematic. An experience that's so familiar it's odd to think that it's really happening to him. The platonic ideal of being twenty and meeting a pretty girl.

"Did I thank you?" she asks, a few blocks away from her house.

"I wasn't really paying attention. Probably. You've been great. Very polite. Best experience I've ever had with a girl I picked up lurking in a high-school parking lot by far."

She laughs. "But really, thanks. For everything."

"My pleasure."

Once he stops, she leans over and presses her lips to his, quick and soft, with just a hint of heat before she pulls back, and he like an idiot, but he tangles his hand in her hair to pull her back, kiss her a little longer.

"This wasn't in your expectations," she says. She's smiling at him, still beautiful. _Happy_.

"Yeah, you're beyond my wildest dreams," he says, to make her laugh.

"Wow. That's quite a line."

"I know, I'm really charming."

"You kind of are, though." She pecks him one more time. "If you don't call me, I'm going to call you. I've got your number."

"I'm going to call you."

"Good. Night, Bellamy. Thanks for the ride."

"Any time," he says. "Goodnight, Clarke."

When he gets back, Octavia's sitting on the steps with Zoe, passing a bottle of their grandmother's gin back and forth between them. He snags the bottle back from her.

"Seriously, O?"

"Where the hell were you?" she asks. "Miller's?"

"What do you care?"

Her eyes narrow. "Did you meet someone?"

"Yeah, I picked up a girl at your prom," he says, rolling his eyes. "Don't drink gin, O."

"You were drinking gin when you were my age."

"And I'm a shitty role model." He considers, but he's curious, a little stupid and giddy, and honestly kind of proud. Besides, she's going to find out about it eventually, he hopes. He wants Clarke to be around a lot. "You know a girl named Clarke?"

Octavia and Zoe exchange a look. "Wait, you _actually_ picked up a girl at my prom?"

"She made a huge scene," Zoe adds.

"It wasn't really her fault. Finn did most of it."

"God, what a dick. Remember when you had a thing for him freshman year?"

"Shut _up_ , it was for like ten seconds," says Octavia. She turns her attention back to Bellamy, critical. "What about Clarke?"

"I gave her a ride home."

"God, I can't believe you."

He shrugs. "She needed a ride." And then he adds, "I'm going to ask if she wants to get dinner with me on Monday. When I'm not working."

Octavia scowls. "Give me back the gin. I can't believe you got more action on my prom night than I did."

"Don't be jealous. I've got way more game than you do." He passes her the bottle and ruffles her hair. "Don't drink too much. You'll regret it."

"Don't be a dick."

"Night, O. Night, Zoe."

He's working the opening shift at the coffee shop in the morning, and he'd regret staying up this late if it hadn't been so awesome.

When he goes to set his alarm, he sees he has message from Clarke, and he regrets it even less.

_What are you doing tomorrow night?_

_Working_ , he replies. _You aren't rebounding, are you?_

_I don't think I liked him enough to rebound from him._

_Cool. I'm free for dinner on Monday._

_It's a date_ , she says, and he flops back onto his bed with a grin.

By far his best prom night ever.


End file.
